Flying Free
by AzelmaRoark
Summary: When Frex drags her to Westside Aquatics, Elphaba just wants to make it through a swim meet without someone asking to see her broomstick.  But if her strange new teammates have their way, that's the least of her worries.  AU musicalverse, Elphaba/Fiyero.
1. Colorblind

**Title: ** Flying Free (formerly known as Wicked Swim Team or WST for short)  
**Rating: ** T for infrequent-but-occasionally-nasty language, tame sexuality, and disturbing themes (homophobia, violence, drowning, and other sundry unpleasantness, none condoned)  
**Pairing:** Fiyero/Elphaba, eventually. Follows canon pairings.   
**Notes: **Yes, I swore I'd never do it again but, sue me, I'm doing it again. If you're familiar with Flip Turn and its various derivatives, you'll know exactly what this is, but if you aren't, here are your details! This is a massive AU set in a modern real-world Earth pretty similar to ours, though not entirely identical, since I'm keeping the names and keeping the green skin and assuming WoO isn't, you know, a well-known children's story. Most of the characters have been slightly de-aged to older-teenagerdom, and most are competitive swimmers. This means: no Oz, no magic, lots of fast swimming, and some very unexpected reinterpretations of canon. Decidedly musicalverse (clearly, given the water thing), but some book elements may sneak in, mostly to supplement with background characters as needed. Combining fandom and swimming is the ultimate love-fest for me, and thus this fic was born. I have a large portion of the story finished, and I hope to update weekly. Enjoy!

* * *

**Flying Free**

**Prologue: Colorblind**

* * *

Galinda Upland was lying on a towel in the grass outside the pool, innocently perfectifying her late-summer-not-quite-autumn tan, when she lost her mind.

And it was a real _shame _to lose a mind like Galinda's: nobody was better at remembering every detail of the latest gossip; at walking in four-inch heels while having a spirited conversation about last week's party; at _planning _parties, for that matter; at putting together outfits. She was especially good at putting together outfits. Galinda always knew which colors coordinated well without being too matchy, and everyone was always jealous. Her favorite combination lately was deep rust and lovely shades of mint green. They accented her blond hair and complemented one another beauteously.

It was, she thought, a cruel twist of irony that the very development that made her sure she _had_, in fact, lost her mind had precisely to do with color coordination.

Because there was a _green girl_ walking resignedly up the sidewalk toward Galinda's spot on the grass, and people were _not_ supposed to be green.

Clearly Galinda had gone colorblind. At best. Her wardrobe would never recover.

She pushed up her sunglasses and squinted gently – squinting gave you wrinkles, so she tried not to do it, but desperate times called for desperate measures – hoping the sun was playing tricks on her. But it wasn't: the girl was _green_, and not just a seasick sort of tint or even the mint shade of that delishable blouse Galinda had worn to school that day. She was the color of Galinda's car: a bright, apple-green. Except this girl wasn't adorable, compact and trendy like Galinda's gorgeous new beetle.

She was… tall. Solid-looking. Mildly frightening eyebrows that Galinda could have seen from a mile away. She had an awkward way of carrying herself that meant she didn't get invited to the good parties or sit at the popular table at lunch. But all of that was hard to notice in the face of all that _green_. Galinda would have thought it was body paint, applied in some ridiculacious notion of team spirit, but Shiz's colors were navy and white – an utterly boringified combination_, _but Galinda made it work. And this girl didn't seem the type to be interested in team spirit or taken seriously when she took part in it. Besides, it was too… _dull_, for body paint. It didn't have an unnatural shine like when some of the guys on the team painted themselves for meets. There weren't any lines or indentations at her elbows or knees, though parts were darker – her forearms, shoulders, the places where you'd get a tan first. Galinda couldn't see so much as a tiny patch of it that looked smudged or painted-on or even a _little _less green. It looked like… _skin_. She'd never seen anything like it in her life.

Galinda elbowed Shenshen, who grunted a protest and reluctantly pulled the headphones out of her ears.

"Do you see that?" she demanded, desperate for confirmation that she wasn't hallucinating.

Shenshen scanned the sky, brow wrinkling. "See what?"

"No, over there!" Galinda pushed Shenshen's huge sunglasses onto her forehead and elbowed her again, this time in the direction of the green girl. "Don't you see that?"

Shenshen didn't answer right away. Her mouth dropped open as the sunglasses fell back down, hanging over one ear for a long moment before she realized and fixed them. "Oh. My. God," she finally breathed.

"Ha! I'm _not_ going colorblind!"

"Who forgot to tell me Morrible turned the team into a circus?" Shenshen laughed and leaned back on her hands. "Do you think she's gonna die soon?"

"Shenshen!"

"Well, it's a reasonable question_. Look_ at her! … It _is_ a her, right?"

"Oh my god, she's coming over here, see what you did?"

"I didn't do anything! You're the one who told me to stare at her!"

"I wonder if it's contagious. Oh god, Shenshen, I can't be green. It would ruin _everything._"

But the green girl walked right past them without even looking at them even though she _must _have noticed them staring and, unless she was deaf in addition to green, must have heard them talking about her. She didn't seem to mind. She just kept walking next to the girl she was with, who Galinda hadn't even noticed. The other girl mercifully wasn't green, though _she_ only had one arm, Galinda realized as the green girl held the door to the pool open for her. She'd turned at an angle where Galinda could see it just then. Well, obviously _she_ wouldn't be swimming.

The one with the missing arm was pretty: dark brown hair and big brown eyes and delicate features and a yellow skirt that paired decently with her navy top. Galinda wasn't sure why she was willing to be seen next to the green one, but at least that probably meant that whatever made her green didn't rub off. Nobody would risk getting that close to her if it did. Probably.

And would the green girl swim? Did it come off in the water?

This season was going to be more interesting than she'd thought.


	2. Be Nice

**Title: ** Flying Free (formerly known as Wicked Swim Team or WST for short)  
**Rating: ** T for infrequent-but-occasionally-nasty language, tame sexuality, and disturbing themes (homophobia, violence, drowning, and other sundry unpleasantness, none condoned)  
**Pairing:** Fiyero/Elphaba, eventually. Follows canon pairings.  
**Notes: **Thanks for the feedack and the subscribing, y'all! I hope you enjoy the next chapter, in which we get to meet Elphaba and she gets to meet... well, you can probably take a guess.

* * *

**Flying Free**

**Chapter One: Be Nice**

* * *

"Nessie, always remember that you've overcome challenges that no one else on this team or any other will ever understand. You have so much to be proud of – and I hope you know exactly how proud I am of you."

Frex looked at Nessarose with shining eyes, hands on her shoulders as he smiled down at her. It was the kind of smile that made everyone who wasn't receiving it feel like they were doing something wrong. Abruptly, his gaze snapped to Elphaba, hardening along with his tone as he added, "Elphaba. Be nice."

"I_ could _swim instead of being nice, you know."

Frex took a carefully-measured breath. "I am in no mood for your mouth today," he said without shifting his gaze from where it had once again settled adoringly on his favorite daughter. "Nessie? Are you okay?"

The change in the tone probably would have been shocking, Elphaba guessed, if she hadn't heard it since before she was old enough to remember hearing it. As it was, she _had_, so it had never drawn a reaction from her in all her years of memory. It just _was_, like gravity and the law of thermodynamics and Earth's orbit. The planets rotate around the sun. Frex rotates around Nessarose. It just _was_.

Nessa answered him with a smile of her own, one that didn't quite reach her eyes as she glanced nervously at Elphaba, who pretended to be very interested in the door to the aquatics center.

"Thanks, Papa," Nessa mumbled. She was speaking with her neck slumped over and chin against her chest again. Elphaba wished she wouldn't do that, but Nessa had perfected the art of pity and had learned quickly that it tended to get her what she wanted. Though Elphaba wasn't exactly sure _what_ she wanted, this time. Nessa had been talking about Shiz's swim team ever since Frex had informed them that they were moving again. She already _had _what she wanted. It didn't make sense.

"Come on, baby," Frex said, petting Nessa's hair. "It'll be fine. If it isn't, I'll take care of it, alright?"

"I guess." Nessa sighed. That obviously hadn't been what she was worried about, but Elphaba wasn't sure what _was_. She allowed herself to wonder about it for a long moment before deciding that it didn't matter. If it interfered with watching Nessa, she'd deal with it then.

"That's my girl. Have a great time, alright? This is a new team – it's a great opportunity for you. For both of you," he added, with an obligatory half-nod at Elphaba.

It wasn't that Father didn't know how Elphaba felt about the 'opportunity' of meeting new people on new swim teams at new schools in new towns. He just didn't care. She should probably have accepted it by now, if only for her own sanity. But she hadn't. The little recording of Father's voice in her head, honed from years of practice, commented harshly that her inability to accept the inevitable was just one more _way _she had of "bringing this on herself."

"Opportunity to do what?" she heard herself demanding, the words fire-hot in her mouth. "Spend the entire season convincing them that I'm not some kind of demon, and just when some of them are finally willing to look at me, we're moving again to – "

"_Be nice,_ Elphaba."

She stiffened at the sharp edge of warning in the tone, not because it frightened her – she was long past the ability to be frightened or surprised by anything her father said or did – but because she knew that he was about four words away from introducing them to the team himself. He'd only done that once, five years ago when Elphaba was twelve and Nessa was nine, but that once was too many times. Frexhad the impressive ability to create even more rumors and questions and lingering stares under the guise of trying to eliminate them.

Frex glared at her for a moment longer, testing, and she forced herself to just meet his gaze neutrally, listening to her breathing and keeping it even and steady as if she were on the first lap of a mile. He finally gave it up with a stiff shake of his head and a sharp nod at Nessa, and Elphaba walked to her sister's side without a word, waiting for her to say goodbye to Frex and then to lead her up the sidewalk to the pool. She scanned the dilapidated sign above the door to the building. _Westside Aquatics_. Innocuous enough.

She felt Frex's eyes on her back, watching to be sure that she held the door open for Nessa. Nessa didn't need doors held for her and Elphaba didn't need reminders to do it, but Elphaba knew this game and knew all the rules and knew what happened if she didn't play by them.

She was almost relieved when the double doors closed behind them and the familiar stench of chlorine, heat and poor air circulation hit her like a physical force.

"Oh my god, what _is_ that?"

Almost.

She wasn't sure which one of the three boys leaning lazily against the front desk had said it, but it didn't matter. They'd all say it sooner or later.

"Dude, what the hell. It's _green_."

"That's gross. That's _so_ gross."

"Hey, artichoke! Farmer's Market's not till Saturday, you know, and you're _way_ early for Halloween."

Nessa caught Elphaba's gaze, a strange look on her face that Elphaba couldn't identify. Her best guess was caught somewhere between fear of leaving Elphaba's side and the need to not be ridiculed by association. It was hit or miss whether that happened at any particular team. Usually miss. Nessa was perfectly capable of distinguishing herself from Elphaba without looking insensitive for it.

Shrugging, Elphaba turned to face the boys and deadpanned, "Nice to meet you, too."

"Ohhh, it talks! Impressive! But can it swim?"

"It's green – frogs can swim. I dunno. Wouldn't count on it, but maybe."

A muscle in Elphaba's neck twitched. "Or _maybe_ you can mind your own business before I make you, and – "

Nessa's fingernails found Elphaba's wrist and dug in. "Be _nice_, remember?" she murmured, catching her eyes with a meaningful look.

Elphaba hesitated, then sighed and stalked away from the idiots at the desk as Nessa followed. Mind swirling with anger, she tried to focus on getting a better look at the pool instead of the morons that infested it.

The pool was half-hidden behind a tall row of bleachers. The boys kept talking after her as she walked, of course, but none of the exclamations even made the top fifty most original things someone had said about her, and in any case, she didn't much care what they said as long as Nessa was okay. And she seemed to be, apart from the heavy please-don't-embarrass-me looks she kept shooting Elphaba.

It was larger than had seemed possible from the outside, Olympic-sized, though currently divided down the middle with a removable bridge to make two pools of one. Short course, then. Long course would have been better for Nessa; she didn't like turns and said her arm made them difficult. The starting blocks were on the low side but looked newer than the rest of the pool, probably a recent renovation. A diving well hung off the last lane of the competition pool, a middle and high board at the end. Other than that, it was unadorned, just the pool flanked on either side by tall rows of bleachers, like trees in a forest. The equipment wasn't new or fancy, but it worked. Their last pool had had a gym and a daycare and too many flashy gadgets that drew customers, and she hadn't liked it. It had meant more people and more stares. This was better, plain and unembellished. This way, she knew what to expect. Maybe here she could just focus on _swimming _and taking care of Nessa.

Elphaba suspected that the locker rooms were behind the desk where the boys had been – the boys who were currently following behind Elphaba and Nessa saying something about witches. She didn't need to change, but Nessa had come from a shopping trip with Frex for 'back-to-school clothes.'

"Hey, cast a spell on us!" demanded one of the boys, his voice rich with laughter.

"Witches aren't green," his friend said, rolling his eyes.

"Sure they are," the other countered. "She's missing the warts, though."

"I'm sure she's got warts. We just haven't looked hard enough."

"Nessa, go change," Elphaba said, removing the smaller of the two gym bags from her shoulder and placing it carefully over Nessa's good one. It wasn't heavy – Elphaba kept anything difficult to carry in her own bag – but Frex liked Nessa to avoid carrying anything if possible. Even so, he'd rather Nessa carry her bag than be harassed on Elphaba's behalf.

Nessa's eyes darted from the boys to Elphaba. "But – "

"Just go," Elphaba hissed, and then her sister flashed a nervous smile at their crowd of onlookers and headed for the locker rooms.

Breathing a small sigh of relief when they didn't turn their venom on Nessa, Elphaba faced the boys again and noticed in dismay that they were now accompanied by a few girls as well. There were four of them, three flanking the fourth adoringly, who stood several inches shorter than Elphaba with wavy blond hair pulled away from her face in some complicated swirl completely inappropriate for one about to jump in a pool. She had on a ruffled pink tennis skirt that barely covered her upper thighs, pink flip flops with heels, and a bright white suit that looked custom made. A _monogrammed _custom-made suit, assuming her name began with a 'G,' which was stitched on at the hip in bright pink.

"Eww, don't talk to her!" the blond girl demanded in a squeaky voice. If chewing on tin foil had a sound, it would be _that_ squeak. "It might be contagulous!"

"Just wanted to see if she had any warts."

"See, Shenshen, I told you it was a 'she'!" said the blond girl triumphantly, turning up her nose at one of her posse. The one next to her snickered. The chastened one, Shenshen, rolled her eyes.

"Well, to be fair," the boy said. "I haven't checked yet."

_"Ewww!"  
_  
"Relax, Galinda," the boy drawled. "None of us are _that _desperate to find out."

The blond one – Ga_lin_da, what a name – flipped her hair and made a little _hmph_ noise. "Well, _don't."_ Her eyes brightened with false sincerity as they landed on Elphaba, and she took a few cautious – very cautious – half-steps forward, raising one finger as if contemplating tapping her on the shoulder and thinking better of it.

"Excuse me," Galinda said cheerfully in that awful voice, somehow even worse when directed at Elphaba. "But you're in my lane."

Elphaba glanced at the starting blocks. Number four. The fast lane. Of course. "I wasn't aware that you owned it," she said, not backing away. This was stupid. She'd just ended up here because the boys had cornered her, not because she wanted this lane. Elphaba didn't even_ like_ swimming in lane four. She had enough people staring at her.

"Well, now you are," Galinda sniffed. "And as I'm sure you can see, I need a lot of space for my things, so if you'd _please_ move – "

A cough that wasn't exactly loud but forceful enough that everyone turned to look for the source cut Galinda off, and a woman wearing burgundy shorts and an orange poncho with more tassels than would ever be needed five feet from a large body of water swept onto the deck, a small office door slamming loudly behind her. She had thin, puckered lips painted the color of an overripe apple, too much mascara, and sunken cheeks that reminded Elphaba wildly of a goldfish, and her tassels made a little hissing noise when she walked – or floated, or sashayed, or something. Whatever it was, 'walking' didn't cover it.

"And how nice to see everyone making themselves at home on the first day of another wonderful season of Shiz swimming!" the woman announced in a grand voice. It wasn't loud, but she didn't need a microphone to earn attention. The snickers died down, a few kids filtered in from outside, and several others who'd been loitering by the bleachers ambled over to the starting blocks until a mostly-quiet half-circle formed around her. Even Elphaba's tormentors were silent – for now.

"For the few of you who might not know me, I am Head Coach Morrible. Coach Morrible will be fine. Coach will suffice. _Horrible Morrible_ is appropriate only for those of you who wish to spend the afternoon doing pushups and running the perimeter of the aquatics center," she added with a pointed look at some of the boys, earning a few poorly-suppressed snickers. "Now, we have an excellent roster this year and a… defin_ish_ chance at taking yet another state title – if you'll kindly remember our respectable-but-far-from-ideal second place at last year's meet. We have the potential to turn that into a first place this season. But this will not happen without serious commitment, and I expect it from each one of you. Is that understood?"

A chorus of mumbled "yes, Coach"s answered her, and Coach Morrible smiled as she adjusted one of the tassels on her poncho.

"I want to also remind you that you are all expected to participate in team chores. This means that if I see anyone failing to arrive early or stay late to help with meet set-up and take-down, or if you should make the unfortunate decision to neglect your turn to put in lanelines, you will find yourself regretting it. Is that understood?"

At that, Galinda abandoned her attempt at brushing her hair – Elphaba chose not to think about the lunacy of brushing hair before swim practice – and raised her hand, fingers outstretched and open.

"Excuse me, Coach Morrible, but I thought my father had already exempted me from chores. Didn't you get my note? I sent – "

Giving no sign of having heard, Coach Morrible continued, "And before I lose your attention entirely, we have two notable additions to our team – and, indeed, to our school – this year. Miss Nessarose Thropp – "

And as she said the words, Nessa rushed out from behind the bleachers, breathing a little heavy, her gym bag clutched in her hand and wearing a pair of gym shorts over her suit.

"Ah, there you are, dear," Coach Morrible said with a kind smile, as Elphaba had known she would. Frex had contacted the school weeks before they moved and informed them of Nessa's "situation," and everyone knew to treat her carefully.

This was answered with a murmur of less-than-enthusiastic welcome, but no one commented on Nessa's arm. Probably because it seemed practically commonplace compared to Elphaba's skin, which was the way Elphaba liked it because that was the way Frex liked it.

Nessa offered a shy smile that Elphaba knew to be carefully practiced and then ducked her head into the now-impressive crowd of swimmers, stopping next to Elphaba, the bag falling at her feet. Elphaba bent to pick up the strap.

" – And her sister, Elphaba," Coach Morrible added, in that stiffly-polite tone that people took when they were trying very hard to pretend not to notice the green.

A few snickers peppered the crowd. Elphaba heard one of the boys from earlier whisper, "A.K.A., Witch of Westside," earning him several sharp giggles from his minions. Coach Morrible ignored both the snickers and Galinda's hand, which was now waving a little more desperately.

"Now, as you all know we have many expectations of our swimmers here, new and old, so I thought it best that –"

Apparently unable to stand it any longer, Galinda stepped in front of Shenshen and up to Coach Morrible, practically vibrating with the need to speak. Releasing a calming sigh, Galinda took a slow breath and raised her hand again, prim and expectant, like someone claiming a prestigious award at a pageant. "_Excuse _me, Coach Morrible, but I really must speak to you – "

"Ah, Upland. Excellent. Thank you for volunteering to introduce the Thropp girls to life at Shiz."

Elphaba didn't allow herself any satisfaction at Galinda's yelp of horror, mostly because every logical impulse she possessed reminded her fiercely that this new development was just as bad for _her_ as it was for the nightmare in pink.


	3. With a Talent Like Yours

**Title: ** Flying Free (formerly known as Wicked Swim Team or WST for short)  
**Rating: ** T for infrequent-but-occasionally-nasty language, tame sexuality, and disturbing themes (homophobia, violence, drowning, and other sundry unpleasantness, none condoned)  
**Pairing:** Fiyero/Elphaba, eventually. Follows canon pairings.  
**Notes: **At the urging of my sister, I am uploading the next chapter a bit early, in which Elphaba gets the shock of her short life and Morrible gets something she's wanted for quite awhile. Enjoy!

* * *

**Flying Free**

**Chapter Two: With a Talent Like Yours  


* * *

**

"Ah, Upland. Excellent. Thank you for volunteering to introduce the Thropp girls to life at Shiz."

The pageant smile disintegrated. "What," Galinda deadpanned, voice lowering a full octave. It was more an utterance of disgust than a question. Her hand dropped to her side with such force that Elphaba could have sworn it made a sound as it whipped through the air.

"I trust you'll make them feel welcome."

"I – but – "

Coach Morrible turned a dangerous eye on Galinda. "There isn't a problem, is there?"

"I – no! It's not a – " Galinda paused, flicked a glance at Elphaba and made an expression remarkably similar to swallowing bile, then continued with all the sincerity of a used car salesman, "Of course it's no trouble at all. I'd be happy to show them around. Why, I'm sure we'll become _great friends_." Galinda said the last two words as if they were words like _root canal _or _mass murder._

"Heartwarming indeed," said Coach Morrible as she clasped her hands briskly. "Well, that's settled, then. And now we come to everyone's favorite part of the first day of practice: time trials!"

This was met with a few excited cheers, more than a few groans, and shrugs from the rest. A small boy with blond hair who didn't look old enough to be on the team at all cast a desperate glance at the bleachers as if contemplating hiding behind them.

Nessa moved a few inches closer to Elphaba's side.

"Don't worry," Elphaba whispered. "You'll be fine. They'll love you."

Coach Morrible ignored the mixed reactions and continued, "We'll be starting off with everyone's 100 freestyle, which is four lengths of the pool for the uninitiated and the arithmetically-challenged. If time allows, we shall move on from there. Let's have the girls first, in alphabetical order. Boys, grab a stopwatch and a clipboard – and _no monkey business_, Avaric," she finished with a low note of warning at a muscled boy who looked a little older than Elphaba, who was leaned against the wall snickering about something with three others.

"But I have a foot cramp," Avaric said, biting back laughter.

"Well then you'll simply have to work around it, won't you? I suggest to everyone that you perform to the best of your ability, as today will determine your preliminary lane assignments and relay positions. If applicable." Coach Morrible glanced at the blond boy at the bleachers and turned her eyes to the ceiling. The boy swallowed heavily and seemed to shrink another two inches.

They watched about four heats' worth of girls swim before Elphaba and Nessa were called. The boys recorded times. Most of them did, anyway. Avaric spent more energy drawing dirty pictures and showing them to the timer in the next lane, a boy even shorter than the blond one ("Hey, Boq, check this out!"), presumably to watch him turn redder than a traffic light. They didn't call out times, but Elphaba could take a guess. Some of them needed more practice. Some of them were good. Milla in particular was quite good. She had a build more suited to a breaststroker, and Elphaba was curious to see what she could do in her best events.

She wasn't worried about her own race. Elphaba hadn't raced in so long that she didn't even _know _her times anymore. Mostly she watched Nessa's face grow paler with each heat until she remarkably matched her cream-colored goggles, a present from Frex, when Coach Morrible motioned her to lane two.

"Do your best," Coach Morrible said, her eyes uncharacteristically kind, then added, "Elphaba, lane one," like an afterthought. It didn't really bother her. Elphaba was used to being an afterthought.

"Upland. Lane four. Isn't it wonderful how your new friends are so close to you in the alphabet?"

Galinda turned the bile-swallowing look on Elphaba again. "Oh yes. Just _wonderful," _she bit out before stalking over to the blocks, carefully avoiding Elphaba.

The starting block felt unfamiliar beneath her, the puckered concrete rough against her feet. It had been awhile since she'd been anywhere near one at all. Their last coach hadn't felt it was "appropriate" for Elphaba to compete "in her condition," and Frex had liked the idea. She'd protested, but not much. At least at that pool, she'd had her own lane where no one bothered her because they were too afraid to get near her and, since the coach hadn't bothered assigning her a practice group, the freedom to mostly do what she wanted. She'd found workouts on the internet and taped them to a kickboard at the end of her lane and managed just fine, maybe even better than usual because there was no waiting for the others to stop talking and complaining. Best of all, when the novelty of her skin had worn off and the team had accepted that she wasn't going to respond to pointing and giggling and stupid jokes about vegetables, they'd stopped trying to talk to her.

A glance at Coach Morrible's calculating gaze told her that things might be different here.

"Take your mark," Coach Morrible said, in that quiet voice authoritative enough that it didn't require amplification.

From out of the corner of her eye, Elphaba saw Galinda's pageant demeanor fall away in an instant as she bent gracefully to grip the edge of her block with both hands. She looked solid and serious and like every other swimmer in the center lane of the final heat who knew what they were doing. Of course, she reminded herself, this was in alphabetical order, not by time, so that didn't mean anything –

Elphaba's start was late because her reflexes weren't tuned to the whistle Coach Morrible used – when she _had _been allowed to practice starts, their previous coach had used verbal cues because a whistle never meant _go_ in a race, but Coach Morrible seemed the type too civilized to shout something. When she hit the water, she immediately glanced to her side to see how Nessa was doing and began the familiar process of trying to stay far enough ahead of her to still be "trying" without "mocking Nessa's disability," as Frex said. Racing for her was a delicate balance between two of Frex's favorite labels, with unobtainable mediocrity in the middle.

Elphaba wasn't exactly sure where that perfect balance was, and in the seven years she'd competed with Nessa, she'd learned only two things about it: the window of success was so narrow that it might be a mythical creature alongside unicorns and Bigfoot, and Elphaba would never, _ever_ find it.

Today wouldn't be different. It never was.

She kept watching Nessa through the first and second turns and then, satisfied that her sister wasn't drowning or panicking, she let herself focus on finding the balance. Freestyle wasn't really her race, in the sense that she _had _races because Elphaba didn't race, but she liked to think that swimming her weaker strokes made it easier to avoid "mocking Nessa's disability." At the end of the third lap, she found herself in the odd position of being unable to see anyone in front of her, and she backed it off until she could just see what might have been Galinda's hands a few lanes over. It didn't make sense that Elphaba had to slow down for someone like Galinda, but she must have seen a cute boy and gotten distracted or something.

Then the _real _reason why Elphaba didn't race showed itself. Even though it was wrong. Even though it was everything she shouldn't be doing. But with every stroke closer to the end of the race, Galinda and Coach Morrible and her whistle and even _Nessa _mattered less. She'd tried to avoid this, she really had. But it was a nice pool and the water felt _right,_ like it usually did, and she'd been practicing this final turn and _wanted_ to hit it, and she had to be so far behind by now that it probably wouldn't matter. By the final ten meters, it was just her and the solid safety of the water held in her hands, doing what she wanted it to do.

Elphaba touched the final wall in a finish that was satisfying but hopefully not "attention-seeking," and it took her a few seconds to bring her mind out of the race. When she did, she noticed the boy who'd been timing her, his face far too close to hers, and why was his stopwatch lying useless on the deck?

Something was wrong. Stares, pointing – and not in the usual way that people stared or pointed at her. The crowd had a different air than after any other heat; it was subtle, but there was a shifting energy among the others, charged whispers running through them like little jolts of electricity.

And when the boy in her lane cackled an incredulous, "Damn, did you _see_ that? She just _wasted_ _Galinda Upland!",_ it took Elphaba a few tense moments, like looking into Frex's eyes when she was in trouble and waiting for him to get angry, before she had the horrified realization that he meant _her._

"Dude, she totally did."

"Bet she'd waste _you,_ Avaric."

"Shove it!"

"What is she? Some kinda genetic freak or something?"

Elphaba was contemplating the virtues of getting on a bus after practice to some town far enough away that Frex would never find her when Coach Morrible swept into her line of vision and trilled, "Thropp!"

Elphaba met her eyes because there was nothing else she could do, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Nessa do the same.

_"Elphaba,"_ Coach Morrible clarified, waving a dismissive hand. "Do you realize what you just did?"

_She's going to kick me off the team. She's going to kick me off and call Frex, who is going to lock me in my room and never let me swim again. And I'll never go to college and I'll never get a job and I'll spend the rest of my life in his house taking care of Nessa and – _

"No?" Elphaba said, sharp and too-sudden and not at all enough to protect her.

Coach Morrible raised a disbelieving eyebrow, and Elphaba thought for a wild moment that she could see gears turning behind the woman's forehead, but then it faded and her face softened and she held a hand out to Elphaba, beckoning.

"Well, come on now," she cooed when Elphaba just stared at her, wide-eyed. "You need to rest for your next race."

"Ne—next race?" Elphaba climbed hesitantly out of the pool. There was going to _be_ a 'next race?'

"Why, of course! Miss Elphaba, Miss Elphaba." Coach Morrible shook her head, a knowing smile on her face as if Elphaba were a puppy that had done an interesting trick. "Could you _really_ not have known? After all that training?"

"Training, ma'am?"

"Well, what else would you have been doing, with a talent like that?" Coach Morrible demanded with a scandalized laugh as she wrapped a towel around Elphaba's shoulders that seemed to appear out of nowhere and Elphaba suspected belonged to someone else.

Elphaba stumbled, her feet suddenly barely enough to hold her upright. _"Talent,_ ma'am?"

"Careful, dear!" Coach Morrible caught her under the arms and clucked a disapproving tongue, and Elphaba realized she was walking, leading them somewhere briskly, away from the pool and from dozens of stares. "Are you trying to injure yourself? Of _course _your talent. Who else's? Surely your father must have prepared you for this day since infancy."

A sharp laugh caught in Elphaba's throat that she barely managed to disguise as a cough. "My father – he – no," she managed, wondering when the entire world had stopped making sense. When she'd wake up from the strangest dream of her life.

She dug her nails into palm hard when she caught herself wishing that she never would.

"My dear, you must be confused." And then Coach Morrible held a door open for her that led to a small room that must have been her office, and why had she stopped practice for this? Frex was going to kill her, revive her, and then kill her again.

Coach Morrible moved slowly into the room and took a careful seat at the desk, motioning at Elphaba and then at a chair facing hers. She waited, smiling kindly, before Elphaba finally decided that disobeying would make everything worse at this point, and sat.

Then Coach Morrible continued, calm and serious, "I have been in this business for twenty years. Longer than you've been alive, Miss Elphaba. But never in all those years has _anyone _in my pool demonstrated a talent like yours. It's unrefined, of course, and a blind man could have seen that you _were not_ competing even close to your full potential – " A disapproving look. "But the things we could do with the right training and your gift are – incredible. I don't think you know just _how _incredible."

Elphaba took a shallow breath. This was the point where she woke up. But the dream just kept _going,_ and it – it couldn't be a dream, could it? In dreams she didn't feel this close to both pumping her fist in the air with a triumphant shriek and vomiting. Maybe at the same time.

In a dream, she also would have said something piercingly-intelligent and composed about how it was a great honor and she was ready for the challenge. What she actually said was a squeaky, "Oh god. You're serious."

But instead of her face twisting with rage as she demanded for Elphaba to never show her face again, Coach Morrible's face shifted from joy to surprise and disbelief and maybe – pity? "You really didn't know, did you?" she asked, voice gentle as she put a hand on Elphaba's arm. Elphaba stiffened. The last thing she wanted was pity, _especially_ not from Coach Morrible.

Dream-Elphaba would have smiled winningly and reassuringly said that it might have come as somewhat of a surprise, but she would certainly adjust and wouldn't disappoint anyone. What she actually said was, "Frex is going to kill me."

"He will do no such thing." Coach Morrible smiled. "From this point forward, I will see to it that you get the training you need – and deserve."

"But Galinda – "

"Is a moderately skilled swimmer who will doubtless have a pleasant and unremarkable career that never leave Florida, if it even leaves Shiz. _You_ could be taking Olympic gold before you see your high school diploma."

"But _Nessa_ – "

"Is a lovely girl, and we'll see to it that she's very happy here. But make no mistake, Elphaba: you're the one I'm interested in." The intensity and focus of the gaze – and something else, she couldn't quite decide what – made a small part of Elphaba want to hide under the table. The rest of her just wanted to record this moment and play it over and over for the rest of her life.

"I – there has to be a mistake."

Coach Morrible scoffed. "I _never_ make mistakes. If that doesn't convince you, what about this: I could see you swimming for Oz in less than six months' time, Elphaba. And I do not make statements like that when they are not completely true."

Dream-Elphaba would have graciously thanked her for the vote of confidence and been utterly unphased by the suggestion that she could swim for what was widely known as the most elite training program in the region. The one for people with their eyes on the Olympics. The one where they _made _Olympians.

But since this was not a dream, she just gasped sharply and focused all her energy on staying in her chair.

Coach Morrible smiled, not the soft one from before. This time it was several shades closer to triumphant. "Do I have your cooperation now?"

"Yes," Elphaba said, voice steady around the lump in her throat. "I won't let you down."

"Excellent!" Coach Morrible said, clasping her hands and rising from her chair. "Now, you stay in here and rest while I handle the others. You've had quite a shock. After the boys swim, we'll let you show us what you can _really _do."


	4. He Thinks Red Goes with Orange

**Title: ** Flying Free (formerly known as Wicked Swim Team or WST for short)  
**Rating: ** T for infrequent-but-occasionally-nasty language, tame sexuality, and disturbing themes (homophobia, violence, drowning, and other sundry unpleasantness, none condoned)  
**Pairing:** Fiyero/Elphaba, eventually. Follows canon pairings.  
**Notes: **I'm super sorry that this update has taken me so long, for any who are reading. I actually wrote this chapter a few months ago, and in my great amusement with this story, I forgot that others might want to be amused by it, too. As such I'd like to thank Dee/DeeplyShallow for reminding me to upload it, and other readers have her to thank as well. Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long. I hope you like it and that it's worth the wait. Without further time spent saying stuff, here's your latest update, in which Coach Dillamond and Galinda both have a problem, but not the same one, and we get to hear about someone you're all probably wondering what happened to. Thanks everyone for your support!

* * *

**Flying Free**

**Chapter Three: He Thinks Red Goes with Orange**

* * *

It was only the second day of practice, but the entire season was already _ruinified_.

Galinda had been widely known as the fastest girl at Shiz since ninth grade. Even _other_ teams knew about her. She was fast and talentacious and popular and had never lost the 100 free to _anyone_. All the boys wanted to date her, all the girls wanted to _be_ her, and she was _always _the most important person in the entire pool.

Until that horrible green witch-girl flew in on her broomstick and ruined _everything._

Ever since Galinda's first year on Shiz's swim team, the first day of practice had been a showcase of her many talents, from freestyle to hair accessories. Her opportunity to show all the new additions – and to remind the old ones – that she was in charge. That no one beats Galinda Upland.

But yesterday, Coach Morrible hadn't even glanced at Galinda. She'd spent forever locked in her office with the awful green girl and then spent all the rest of her time obviously wanting to go _back_ to talking to the green girl. And then she _did _go back to the green girl and dragged her out of the office and back to the pool and watched her swim in the last lane, just adorizing her while everyone else did laps.

It didn't make any sense. There was nothing special about the green girl, anyway – besides the _green_, of course, but that wasn't the good kind of special. So she was freakishly fast. So what? She was awkward and unpopular and she didn't even _try _to be fashionable. She wore old, unflattering clothes, no makeup, and that hair of hers hadn't been in style since Coach Morrible was in high school. Sure, the green was a huge problem, but with proper effort, it could be mitigated. She didn't even _care_.

And worst of all, now poor Galinda was stuck babysitting the green girl and her one-armed sister like some kind of freak circus. Was there any way out of this, or was she doomed to freak-by-association status for the rest of the season? Galinda didn't want to find out.

And while Coach Morrible ogled the green girl, the rest of them had had to deal with Coach Dillamond for the rest of practice, as if that weren't bad enough on its own.

They were dealing with him again today. Gross.

Galinda might like Coach Dillamond better if he'd learn to say her name right. He talked kind of funny because he was from somewhere far away from Florida, somewhere up north or something. Galinda didn't much care where. It wasn't _that _hard to say her name, no matter where you were from. Ga. Lin. Da. But every time he completely refused to say it right, she found herself discovering new things about him that annoyed her. Like his obsession with big, boring words. And all that awful old music he insisted upon playing at practice. And, of course, his nonexistent fashion sense – red and orange never belonged in the same outfit, ever, and if there was anyone who could pull off the Clark Kent glasses look… it wasn't him.

The fact that he was making them run, _and _that he was currently making Galinda "watch out for Elphaba and Nessa and make sure they don't get lost - thanks, Glinda" just added fuel to the fire.

"_Ga_linda," she muttered, forcing herself not to roll her eyes.

Coach Dillamond adjusted those ridiculacious glasses and nodded. "Exactly. Glinda. Now remember, everyone: failure to complete the entire three-mile loop will result in more pushups than I care to assign."

Avaric rolled his eyes. "This is so stupid. The cross country team doesn't _swim_ before they _run._"

"And if that were the first or even tenth time you'd made that argument, I would doubtless find it clever. As it is: I think you're in the thirties. Enough chatting, everyone. The sooner we begin, the sooner we'll be finished!"

Galinda turned to the green-thing – _Elphaba_, ugh – at her side and grated out, "And your first lesson as my new _team buddy_ is: stay far, far away from Coach Dillamond because he's freakified. Also, he thinks red goes with orange."

Elphaba just stared back at her with those appalling dark eyes, so brown that they were almost black. It made Galinda feel like little bugs were crawling all over her skin.

"Of course, I bet _you_ think that red goes with orange, so maybe you'll be great friends," Galinda amended brightly.

"I like him." Elphaba looked a little like she wanted to disappear. Or at least start running. Or at least stop talking.

Galinda smiled sweetly. "Yes, _well._"

"Something over here more interesting than running, girls?" Coach Dillamond asked.

At this angle it was impossible not to notice his impossibly-bad haircut. Or lack thereof, really, since it was shaggy and overgrown and Galinda was pretty sure it hadn't seen a pair of scissors in months.

"Oh, nothing," Galinda said, taking care to readjust her sweet smile.

"Well, 'nothing' can wait until after practice."

"Sorry," Elphaba said.

"Not a problem." Coach Dillamond smiled at her. Elphaba smiled back with a look that Galinda would have worn in her favorite store on the biggest sale of the year. Appropriate there. Absolutely disgustingified here.

Galinda wondered if her impending social suicide could really be called suicide if Coach Morrible had forced it on her. Social homicide? First-degree social life murder?

To Galinda's great relief, Elphaba wasn't nearly as good at running as she apparently was at swimming. She kept up with Galinda decently, which was pretty impressive, really, Galinda supposed, but she kept looking back for Nessa and bugging Galinda to slow down.

And more importantly, she didn't _look _nearly as good running as Galinda did. It was a fine art, looking stylish and graceful and appealing while running, and one that Elphaba obviously knew nothing about. The too-big white t-shirt and gray shorts that nearly reached her knees weren't exactly helping, either. Anyone would look bad next to Galinda under any circumstances, but today she was wearing her favorite pink sports bra and her practically-famous shorts that only someone with a body like Galinda's could pull off. Galinda almost felt bad about making Elphaba look even worse running next to her.

Almost.

"So," Galinda ventured as they rounded a corner about halfway through the run. "Until we manage to find you a new team buddy, I might as well know: _does_ it rub off?"

"Does what?" Elphaba said in a voice that might have been annoyed but was probably just out of breath. It was probably hard for her to keep up. Galinda was, after all, one of the best runners on the team. She had to be if she wanted to continue rocking these shorts.

"Well, you know." Galinda gestured to Elphaba's skin, which was difficult to do with poise while running, but she managed.

Elphaba didn't answer for at least a dozen tense strides. "This is stupid," she finally said, in a voice that was _definitely _annoyed now.

"Well, don't you think I have a right to know what it _is?_"

"No."

"Are you always this rude, or do you save it especially for me?"

"Oh, so _I'm_ rude now? I'm not the one asking if someone's skin rubs off." Elphaba shot her a look that made Galinda worry wildly that she'd be struck at any moment with a bolt of lightning.

"You know, maybe if you weren't so sensitacious about it – "

"_Maybe _if _everyone_ weren't such _judgmental idiots_ about it – "

"Guys!"

And they both stopped talking at Nessa's pleading voice that sounded a lot further away than it had … well, the last time Galinda had remembered hearing it. Which was, to be fair, awhile ago. Elphaba stopped mid-step so suddenly and clumsily that she almost fell over as she spun around to check for her sister. There was wild look of panic in her eyes that Galinda hadn't seen there before.

Galinda sighed heavily. Nessa couldn't have been more than a hundred feet down the block. Now she'd have to wait here even longer, and everyone would think she was slow.

So Galinda stood there with her hand on her hip watching Elphaba take off running back to Nessa, much faster than before, and then walk back with her slowly, saying stuff that Galinda couldn't hear and wouldn't have wanted to hear. Galinda could have been finished running by now if it weren't for the freak circus.

"Are you done?" Galinda asked charmingly as she met Elphaba's eyes with a sweet smile.

Elphaba answered her with the bugs-crawling-on-skin look again and said, "We have to slow down."

"Yes, of _course,_" Galinda said, widening her smile just a bit as she imagined herself far away. Preferably somewhere with a country club, a pool boy, strawberry drinks with little slices of pineapple on the rims, and no green girls.

When they finally started running again, Galinda noted with dismay that even the hopelessly short boy from Galinda's homeroom had passed them. His name was Beck. Or Biq. Or something like that. Galinda was pretty sure she had the first letter right, anyway.

* * *

"Now see? That was much better. It's amazing what finding your center of balance can do, isn't it?"

A chorus of groans answered Coach Dillamond, but Galinda didn't add her voice to the rest. It would have been undignificacious. She was mostly hoping he wouldn't ask Elphaba to demonstrate again: if Galinda had to endure one more _"Now, Elphaba does this naturally, but you can, too, if you…" _she was going to do something _decidedly_ undignificacious.

"Balance? Dude, this isn't yoga," Avaric said, and some boy whose name wasn't important enough for Galinda to remember snickered his agreement.

"Yeah, as if all the football players don't think swimming is girly enough," said the short boy from homeroom. Biq. No, maybe it was Bax. Bert?

Nessa glanced in Biq's direction and stifled a giggle. Galinda turned her eyes to the ceiling when no one was looking. They deserved each other.

"Can we please go home now?" Milla asked.

For an instant, a look crossed Coach Dillamond's face that reminded Galinda uncomfortably of the one Elphaba had worn the first day of practice, when Avaric and his minions were making hilarified jokes about grasshoppers or celery or something. Normally she wouldn't have remembered something like that, but it had made Galinda's skin crawl and was hard to forget.

Then Coach Dillamond sighed, caught the Clark Kent glasses from sliding off his nose with two fingers, and said, "I suppose that's all for today. Three hundred easy, everyone, and no chit-chat."

Just when Galinda was about to duck under the water, push off the wall and pretend she wasn't talking to Shenshen for the entire three hundred, Coach Dillamond broke through the chatter to add, "And I nearly forgot an important announcement. I want to draw to your attention the importance of exercising your civic duty next week, for all of you who are of age to do so."

"Dude, what?" Avaric laughed.

"Voting," Coach Dillamond clarified with a little smile. "I trust you do recall there is a very important election upon us."

"Like that's important," Pfannee said. "The hot guy's mom isn't even running again until next year."

"Though I am heartened by your fascination with Governor Tiggular's family, I am primarily concerned with a more bipartisan issue on the ballot. You're aware of the …" Coach Dillamond paused and made a face like he'd bitten into an apple and suddenly realized it had a worm in it. "… Family Protection Amendments, I assume?"

"Hey, that 'hot guy' is a swimmer, too, you know," Pfannee whispered. "I saw him on TV last year!"

"Yes, dummy. I know everyone hot." Galinda said. She was very well aware that Fiyero Tiggular with his amazingified body was the only swimmer who mattered besides Galinda. He was also the only reason to care about politics, and all in all a much better topic to think about than Coach Dillamond's rant.

Unfortunately, Galinda was broken oh-so-rudely out of her very interesting thoughts about Fiyero's abs when Elphaba's shrill voice cut through the crowd.

"They want to do _what?_ Just because some couples happen to be the same gender?"

Coach Dillamond did the sad little smile again. "Yes, Miss Thropp. I'm afraid they do."

"Do they even understand what passing that kind of law would lead to? If same-sex couples aren't recognized as a family, they could lose everything. Their houses, their jobs, their families. How can they not get this?"

"My guess is that they _do_ 'get it,' Miss Thropp."

"But that's horrible!"

"I'm inclined to agree," Coach Dillamond said.

"Well why isn't anyone _doing something?"_ Elphaba glared challengingly at him. Her hand made a tight fist on the backstroke bar.

"Precisely why I bring the matter to your attention now. As I said, there are important bipartisan matters of human rights on the ballot next week, so it is critically important that all who are of age participate," Coach Dillamond said, addressing everyone now. Nobody looked as mad as Elphaba. Or mad at all, really. Mostly they looked annoyed. Mostly Galinda wanted to go back to thinking about Fiyero's abs.

"I'm seventeen," Elphaba said, in a voice that hated being seventeen more than anything in the entire world.

"I do appreciate your passion nonetheless, my dear," Coach Dillamond said. "And perhaps there are ways you could help even so."

"Tell me," Elphaba demanded.

"Very well. After practice. Any other interested parties are free to join. For now, I believe you all have a three hundred to swim."

There were no other interested parties.

At least, none that Galinda saw. She was keen to get back to the locker room to work on her hair and to get away from Elphaba, so she didn't stay too long to see. Normally, Galinda and her friends spent a good bit of time in the locker rooms after practices and meets, but she stayed even longer today. She wanted to give Elphaba enough time to rant with Coach Dillamond about politics and orange-matched-with-red and whatever other freakified things freaks like them talked about.

All in all, Galinda was none too pleased to emerge from the locker room post-deep conditioning treatment to the sight of Elphaba seething at Avaric and two of his minions. Galinda didn't see people seethe too often, but this was a distinct example of seetheification.

"You don't get it," Elphaba was ranting, her green face flushed deep olive and her hair still drenched and clinging to her back. "It's not about _special privileges_. It's about treating them like people! Which is obviously too difficult for you to understand."

"No, see, what you don't understand – probably because you're a freak like them – is that I don't have to rearrange my life just so other freaks can mess up the world," one of Avaric's minions said. He wasn't very cute.

"That's the dumbest argument I've ever heard," Elphaba said. "You don't have any proof that they're 'messing up' anything, and nobody asked you to rearrange your life. Just stop going out of your way to make other people's lives miserable."

"If they don't want to act normal, they shouldn't be surprised when they don't get treated normal," Avaric said reasonably.

"I can't believe I'm hearing this. What if I decided you weren't normal?"

"You don't get to decide that, green bean. _You're_ the freak."

"How creative."

"Oh, I can get creative." Avaric's other minion, a big guy who was even uglier than the first, put his hand on the wall behind Elphaba and grinned in a way that pinged every one of Galinda's danger senses, and she had finely honed ones. And if Galinda didn't rescue that stupid little celery stick, she had no hope of ever getting back on Coach Morrible's good side.

So she swept between them, smiled winningly at Avaric and the minions, and said, "And this was a lovely chat, but my team buddy has an appointment, so we'll have to continue it later. Who knows?" She locked eyes with Avaric and gave him her best smoldering look. "I might actually listen to you."

Galinda grabbed Elphaba's gym bag with one hand and Elphaba's elbow in a death grip with the other. Then she dragged her out of the lobby, ignoring Elphaba's protests until they got through the doors that led to fresh air and gathering darkness.

"I did _not_ ask you to do that," Elphaba spat.

"Hush. You have to drive your sister home. You're welcome for saving you, by the way." Galinda rummaged through the bag in her hand until she found what she was looking for and pressed it into Elphaba's arms. "Now, here are your hideodious clothes and the keys to your hideodious car. Take them and your hideodious sister and leave me alone!"

Elphaba ignored the clothes. "You didn't save me! I was trying to convince those idiots that they were being bigots!"

"Yes, we'll put that on your social tombstone. Now the next time you want to yell at Avaric's oafs, do me a favor and wait until after I've convinced Coach Morrible to de-buddify us!"

"Oh, believe me. I can't wait for that day," Elphaba said, locking eyes with Galinda, and this time the bugs-crawling-on-you feeling was about fifty times worse.

"Well, if you want it to happen, stop making a fool of yourself with these ridiculous rants of Dillamond's, and maybe I can convince her that you don't need my advice anymore."

"Maybe _you _should listen to those 'rants.' Does it not bother you one bit that ten percent of our state is already being treated like second class citizens – and that it could get worse next week? Think of ten people you know, Galinda. Which one does the government not recognize as a person?"

"Oh stop that. I have to hear it enough from Coach Orange-and-Red. And for the last time, put your clothes on."

Elphaba shot her another death glare but pulled another one of those awful big t-shirts over her head, movements stiff and jerky and deliberate. She kept her eyes on Galinda while she stepped into her equally-awful long shorts without even taking off her flip-flops. Those bugs were having a block party on Galinda's skin.

"Fine. But we are not done talking about this. And I'm not done fighting for it."

Galinda rolled her eyes and didn't even bother with a sweet smile. "Oh, I'm sure you're not. See you tomorrow, _buddy_."

"It's been a pleasure. _Buddy_."


End file.
